Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rion pulled the towel down his neck then flung it onto the bed before slipping on his black pants. He stretched his arms overhead, feeling his taunt muscles lengthen. He’d just finished a round of morning exercises and determined himself fully recovered from his wounds.
Rion twisted in the mirror, staring at the fresh scars seated just above his hip bones. One on either side of his spine. His jaw clenched at the memory, but he refused to dwell on the emotions attached. He’d done enough of that in the last few weeks.
Thankfully, Alec never returned to his door and though Rion had told her to go away a number of times, Saoirse was a thorn in his side, constantly fussing.
She didn’t miss the way he flinched away from her touch. She’d asked about it, but he’d refused to answer. Touch felt . . . strange now. As if it were an invasion of his person.
He hated it. Hated that Se—Rion pushed her name down, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over his head. He tested his magic. It had never failed him. Not once. Magic was something under his control and it would be the only thing he’d rely on from this point forward.
If Brónach wanted to treat him like a monster, then a monster is exactly what he’d become.
Rion buckled his belts and slid his freshly sharpened knives into place across his torso. A sword dangled at his side. More knives rested in his boot, against his back. They were the friends he’d carry with him. They were his only allies.
Saoirse still had her second stationed outside his door. The male bowed upon seeing Rion, and Rion let his magic glide over the mosaic rugs, dancing at the male’s feet, daring him to lash out. Saoirse had assured him the male wasn’t his enemy. Rion knew better than to believe it.
When Fin didn’t react Rion moved on, marching down the long hall.
Everyone backed away when they saw him coming. Some pressed their bodies against the walls while others slipped through unlocked doors.
He snarled at any who dared to meet his gaze and something strange in him relished their fear. Let them cower. They deserved nothing less. These were beings willing to murder a youngling for nothing more than being born different.
If they wanted to see a real monster, all they needed to do was look in a mirror.
How many innocents had come before him? How many younglings had suffered as he had?
Rion clenched his fists. None. Because none had survived the people who had claimed to love them.
The thought sickened him. Sent his stomach rolling.
Brónach. A city of strength, yet one founded on abhorrent traditions. Maybe it would be better if the city fell. If he himself tore it apart from the inside out.
Maybe he should be the one to do it. Eventually.
Rion’s heavy boots echoed in the halls as he kept walking, then shoved the throne room doors open without pause.
He hadn’t stepped foot inside since his injury. Hadn’t seen his brother, either.
Alec pretended he could control everything. Everyone. It was time he learned otherwise.
Alec’s nostrils flared upon seeing his youngest sibling. The guards reached for their weapons but didn’t draw. Saoirse sat across from the High Lord, but Rion didn’t look at her. He wouldn’t bring his sister down with him. She didn’t deserve that. He’d tuck her love away in a velvet box, perhaps save it for the next life.
“Why are you here?” Alec demanded, barely restraining the hate in his voice.
“I’m healed,” Rion said simply. “I’m ready for another assignment.”
Alec’s jaw ticked. “Your last one failed.”
“I seem to remember encountering . . . a scheme that derailed me.”
Alec stood slowly, assessing Rion’s body. The magic dancing at his feet. “You won’t be assigned further missions.”
Rion cocked his head and glanced around, meeting each face one by one. The council’s fear burned his nose, something he used to find unpleasant. “Really? Do you have duties for me to attend here?” A small smile spread across Rion’s face. “Perhaps I’ll start attending council meetings. After all, I am a Lord.” His gaze met Alec’s again and his voice turned lethal. “Or do you plan to stop hiding behind your puppets and take me on yourself?”
“Rion.” Saoirse’s stern voice was a warning. He didn’t look at her. He wasn’t a child anymore and didn’t need her protection.
She didn’t need him weighing her down.
The scent of Alec’s magic sparked in the air and small tendrils of greenery poked out from beneath his sleeves. Likely all deadly. Rion knew Saoirse utilized deadly plants to make killing easier on the battlefield.
“It’s a pity Selina didn’t finish the job.”
Rion knew the mention of her name was meant to rile him, push him to anger, but Rion only smiled. “Pity indeed. She didn’t even put up much of a fight in the end. Tell me,” he dared a step forward, forcing Alec’s guards to draw their weapons. “Did your warriors find their bodies beneath all that rubble, or did you leave them there to rot? Rotting would be preferable.”
“You killed an entire unit of our best warriors.”
Rion shrugged. “They violated the code of conduct which states comrades aren’t to engage one another in combat while on assignment. Last I remember, that same code allows the victim to defend themselves by any means necessary.
“Besides,” Rion continued. “Let’s not stand on false pretenses. We all know I was their real target all along. They were the ones who failed.” Rion pulled at his magic, letting it rise up and around his body. “And rest assured, if you try to repeat such events, the next group will also fail. So let’s make this easier for everyone. You’ll pretend to control me and save face with the masses, and I’ll put my skills to use in the field.”
“I could exile you,” Alec threatened. Saoirse’s head shot toward him, a retort on her lips, but Rion responded before she could.
“Could you?” He tilted his head toward Saoirse. “I don’t think losing our sister is in your best interest.” Alec growled. Rion gestured to an empty chair. “Should I sit? Discuss strategy?”
“You won’t take one more step into this room.”
Rion took two. The guards summoned their magic. Vines and plants snaked around their forms like living creatures.
“Did you know that the security in our villages is—how do I phrase this—lacking? I’d love to know the name of the lazy individual who is responsible for ensuring everyone stays in line. Or how about the ones responsible for training said warriors? Have you checked in on them?” Rion made a show of eyeing the guards. “If someone were to attack Brónach from the eastern coast, rest assured they’d sweep across the continent with ease.”
“Don’t act as though you saw enough to make an informed decision.”
“I saw enough and I was disappointed. Father would be downright insulted.”
“Shut your mouth. You don’t have a right to speak about my father.”
Rion made a show of flicking a piece of dust from his sleeve. “Send me to deal with it and I’ll be out of your hair, but,” Rion said, his tone dangerous. “If you send anyone to, say, get close to me again, I’ll kill them on the spot.”
“You can’t go alone. We have rules for a reason.”
“Those rules no longer apply to me,” Rion said. “And if you try to force the issue, I’ll make sure I’m solo by the end of it.” The two males stared one another down. “I’m done,” Rion said simply. “If you want me dead, then you’ll have to step down from your pretty little throne and do it yourself.”
Alec stepped, but Saoirse jumped to her feet, grabbed her older brother’s arm and placed herself between them. “Enough. If he wants to address security issues, then we should be grateful for his assistance.”
Alec growled at her. “He has no love for this country. He’s more likely to sabotage our outposts than reform them.”
“Only if they’re too incompetent to follow orders.” Rion tilted his head again. “Or have you forgotten everything you were taught in school? Or perhaps Caol’s teachings were wrong? Have the warriors of Brónach grown soft?”
“We cannot afford to lose perfectly good warriors.”
Rion shrugged. “If they’ll go, I’ll send the lazy ones back for more training. If not, well, I can’t help what happens to them.”
“I’ve noticed it, too,” Saoirse said and Alec turned to her. “We’ve been receiving complaints from several villages. It’s time someone looks into it.” She turned back to Rion without waiting for Alec’s response. “Start with the northern most villages and work your way down the coast. When you’re finished, return for a reprieve and further orders.”
Alec’s nostrils flared. “You are not the High Lord.”
“You’re right. I’m your advisor, and I’m supposed to handle such things so you don’t have to. We have one of our strongest—”
“He is an abomination and doesn’t—”
Rion took another step toward the throne and the guards backed up, closing in around Alec and Saoirse.
“I know, I know,” Rion said, waving one hand in annoyance. “I should be eradicated from the earth.” His voice lowered. “But that’s not going to happen if I have any say in the matter.” Rion stepped away. “Sit back and relax Alec, I’ll go handle your problems for you.”
His brother growled, but Rion ignored it, pivoted on his heel, and marched from the room. He headed for the library first and requested an updated map of the coastline. The librarian was trembling when he returned with a large rolled up document. Rion studied it, made a few notes, then proceeded to the kitchens. The staff there scrambled from his presence. Rion simply helped himself, then returned to his room for his pack. No reason to remain in Nàdair. There was work to be done.
“Wait,” Saoirse called. He huffed. He’d almost made it to the city gates. Rion turned to his sister and she slowed to a walk, eying the pack slung across his shoulder. It was heavier than the ones he’d carried before, packed to the brim with food and medical supplies. Whatever he needed in order to care for himself. No one was going to do it.
“You shouldn’t provoke Alec like that in front of everyone. It makes him look bad.”
Rion scoffed and turned to walk away. Saoirse reached out to grab his arm, but he caught her wrist and held it in the air between them. Her eyes were wide and he inwardly kicked himself when silver lined her eyes.
He released her and turned away. “I’ll be back.”
“The trip could take you months.” Her voice was too soft.
Rion clenched his jaw, hating himself. “Then it will take months.”
“Will you write?”
“You’ll get regular reports.”
A long silence, then she straightened. “I demand them weekly.”
Rion dared to glanced at her again only to see anguish written across her face.
“I don’t rightly care what happens to Alec, but you should know there’s a traitor in the council.”
“Who?”
“He wears a crow on his hand. Deal with him before I’m back or I’ll do it myself.”
Rion didn’t wait for her response as he exited the city with his magic following in his wake. He wouldn’t look back. It was better for her this way. She’d threatened to leave for him but he couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let his sister sacrifice anything else.
The guards shrank away from him. Everyone’s views of him were solely based upon an ancient prophecy. No one had heard from the gods in centuries. Sometimes Rion wondered if they were even real.
He shifted to an easy jog until he was well beyond the border of redwoods and the trees beyond.
He had a purpose. A mission. A target. And he’d accomplish his task with the same precision he’d always used. By the time Rion was done, the world would know Brónach as a ruthless, unyielding nation once again.
He just had one thing to settle first.